Heaven on Earth
by LadyDivine91
Summary: When Blaine comes home from a rough day working at his father's firm, the one thing he needs to reclaim his sanity is the person who's always felt like heaven on earth. Klaine. Kurt H. Blaine A.


**A/N: This is a re-write.**

Blaine trudged home after a long day at work, tight in every conceivable muscle, his eyes burning with fatigue, the anthem of the day ringing loudly in his ears:

 _"Blaine, I wanted those projections yesterday! Where the hell are they?"_

 _"Blaine, you have to present for new clients at nine, noon, and four. Plan on staying late."_

 _"Blaine! You know you have pretty big shoes to fill now that that Smythe friend of yours got offered a partnership at that firm across town … traitorous little troll! I expect better from you! You'll need to pull your weight and his from now on!"_

 _"Blaine, if you're just going to sit on your ass all day, can you at least look like you're getting something done?"_

 _"If I hadn't promised your mother …"_

Blaine deplored working for his father's firm, but it was one of the stipulations behind his parents paying for his education. When they had originally struck that bargain, Blaine didn't have any clue what he was getting himself into. He just wanted to get his degree in music education, something his parents hadn't initially agreed with. He thought his father's offer was a step towards him accepting the fact that his youngest son didn't want to follow in his old man's footsteps.

Apparently not, since his work schedule makes fulfilling the requirements of his mandatory school room internship nearly impossible. He knew his dad was a hard ass, but he didn't think it would be this bad.

Maybe that was his father's plan all along.

Regardless, a son shouldn't come home from work every day hating his dad, but Blaine's dad doesn't make it easy.

Even though he felt like a tragic loser, he was happy to be heading home to Kurt. He needed his fiancé more than anything. Blaine had left the office an hour-and-a-half late and wound up missing his train; then the connection as well. He texted Kurt when he finally got on board instead of calling him so that he didn't end up whining on a subway car full of strangers.

Blaine made his way to the loft he and Kurt shared, thinking only of him and feeling a little less hopeless than he had a few hours before.

Blaine could hear Kurt singing the moment he reached their floor, through the heavy sliding door of their home. From the clanging of pots and the savory aroma of a roast clinging to the air, Blaine knew Kurt was in the kitchen, cooking something for dinner that smelled like paradise.

"Blaine?" Kurt called, peeking his head out from behind the oven door. "Dinner will be ready in about an hour if you want to …"

Blaine didn't say a word. He walked up to his fiancé, pulling the potholders off his hands and slipping the apron from around his waist.

"Blaine?"

Blaine took Kurt's hand and walked him quietly through the living room to the sofa. He sat down on the overstuffed cushions, kicked off his shoes, and yanked Kurt down into his lap.

"Blaine?" Kurt chuckled nervously. "Are you okay, honey?"

Blaine leaned his head against Kurt's shoulder and shook it sadly. Kurt settled further back into his fiancé's arms. Blaine slipped his hands beneath Kurt's shirt, desperate for warmth as he held him; nuzzled his nose into the crook of Kurt's neck and breathed in deep, capturing the mixture of jasmine and orange from his body wash, the spicy peppercorns of the rub he put on the meat, and something sweet that had started to weave its way into his consciousness.

"Did you make a chocolate cake?" Blaine asked, voice muffled by Kurt's cashmere sweater.

"I did," Kurt said. "It should be done before the roast if you want to start with dessert first. Something tells me it's been a dessert first kind of day."

Blaine nodded. "It was. But, for right now, can we just stay here? Can I just hold you?"

"Sure." Kurt sighed. "For as long as you want. Or, at least, till the timer goes off."

Blaine continued to breathe Kurt in until his soothing scent replaced the oxygen in his lungs.

"Can we do naked cuddling?" Blaine asked, kissing Kurt's neck.

"That bad, huh?"

"Yes," Blaine pouted.

"Alright," Kurt agreed, even though Blaine had already started pulling Kurt's sweater over his head. Kurt took over with his own tight jeans while Blaine quickly tore off his suit, tossing various pieces all over the living room, much to Kurt's dismay. But Kurt bit his tongue. He'll fix it later. It's what he's good at – putting Blaine's pieces back together after his father tears him apart.

"Better?" Kurt asked when Blaine folded his arms back around him and held him close.

"Much," Blaine said, sinking deeper into the sofa with his fiancé in his arms.

Cradled in Blaine's arms, Kurt began to sing. Blaine squeezed his eyes tight and tried not to scream.

Fuck work! Fuck mergers and acquisitions! Fuck ledgers and stocks! Fuck all this stuff he never wanted to know dick about in the first place! Most of all, fuck his dad! Blaine's dad _loved_ his job. Success was an obsession with the man. But Blaine and his father measured success in different ways.

To Blaine's father, money signified success. But to Blaine, success meant love and happiness – a job he actually enjoyed, surrounded by supportive people, a good relationship with parents who accepted him for who he was, not who they wanted him to be.

And the man of his dreams to come home to every night.

One out of four wasn't too bad.

Blaine appreciated money, too. It had served him well his entire life, kept him safe and secure, gave him opportunities other people didn't have.

But Blaine wanted heaven on earth, and money wasn't the key to getting him there.

Kurt turned and kissed his cheek, and Blaine relaxed, a smile replacing the grimace that had threatened to twist his lips irreparably.

Sure, money was great, but it wasn't necessarily success.

And nothing compared to the heaven he held in his arms.


End file.
